Now or Never
by louella
Summary: How did things pan out for Dempsey and Makepeace at the end of series three? This little one-shot takes a peek.


**I loved D&amp;M as an impressionable teenager when they were first shown and have enjoyed catching up with the episodes again on You Tube. This little fic is set at the end of the day of the final episode, Guardian Angel. Hope you enjoy it.**

"Harry, we gotta talk."

Makepeace looked up from the file in front of her. Dempsey's hands were planted on her desk and he was leaning towards her, speaking quietly so the rest of the squad wouldn't hear. Her stomach did that funny thing it sometimes did when he looked at her that way.

Making sure her face didn't betray her, she said, "We talk every day, Dempsey."

He leaned closer, which wasn't helping. "Today isn't every day, Harry."

She wanted to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about, but that would be childish and she was many things but not that. Today had been unusual. Today was the closest she'd come to acknowledging the feelings she'd kept buried for three years. Today was the closest Dempsey had come to reciprocating. She was terrified.

Her shoulders slumped a little but then her chin rose and she was looking along her nose at him. "Fine. Come to mine. Seven okay?"

"Seven's perfect, Princess."

Dempsey straightened his tie as he waited for Harry to open her door. He'd bought wine – a good bottle, not the stuff he usually drank – but decided against flowers.

And now here she was, door open, and she'd changed out of the skirt and top she'd been wearing earlier into a dress made out of something clingy and red and he took a breath. Didn't matter what she wore, she always looked hot to him, but this evening she was off the scale.

"Well don't just stand there," she drawled, opening the door wider. "Come in."

Shit. He must have been staring. He pulled himself together as he followed her down the hall and into her kitchen. He knew where she kept the glasses and corkscrew and got busy with the wine, pouring them a generous glass each. It didn't occur to him to ask before opening her cupboards and drawers. They'd been partners for three years. This sort of intimacy was second nature.

"Cheers," he said as he passed her the glass.

"Cheers." She clinked her glass against his and gave him a smile but her gaze quickly skidded away and she turned and walked off towards the living room. Shrugging, he followed, eyes on her rear as she walked in front of him.

They reached the living room and she seemed to hesitate a moment before settling herself into the corner of a sofa. He glanced around the familiar room. There was another sofa on the other side of the room and a couple of armchairs nearby. After a beat he took a seat at the other end of the sofa she was sitting on and angled his body slightly towards her. She took a healthy swig from her glass.

"Y'know," he said, "you don't have to come back. To work. If you really don't want to. Coltrane's gone, I can head back to New York, you can stay at the museum dusting your dinosaurs, it'll be like I was never here. If that's what you want."

She was frozen solid, her eyes on the floor. Then she took a breath and looked up at him. "Or?"

"Or, you could come back and I'll stay and we can carry on like before. I get your back, you get mine, together we keep the streets of London clear of the villains and bad guys. Spikings' heroes."

"I see. And are those the only options?"

Now it was his turn to look at the floor. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" He felt her stare boring into him but kept his eyes on his feet. She sighed. "Well, in that case, Lieutenant, I suggest you dig out your passport and hand in your badge. It's been – interesting."

He could feel her withdrawing and wanted to shout at her, Don't you know how hard this is for me? and, You never give anything back! and You must know already how I feel, why are you making me say it?

He ran his hand through his hair and set his glass on the floor. "Listen, Harry. You know I don't wanna leave. I want to stay here, in SI10, with Spikings and the team." He swallowed. "With you."

"But Dempsey. I don't think I do want to carry on with things as they were before."

His body sagged. "You don't, huh. But I aint partnering with any of those other chumps in the unit. It's you or no one." Which was true, he knew, in more ways than one.

Her silence was unnerving and he risked a glance at her. She was gazing into the fire, although it wasn't lit, and fiddling with a seam in her dress. "What do you say, Harry?"

"I'm sorry, Dempsey. I'm afraid I just can't continue to work with you like this."

That felt like a sledgehammer. "But why not? What did I do?"

"Nothing, Dempsey. The problem is, you've done nothing."

"You're talking in riddles again, Harry." He leaned forward a little, elbows on his knees. "How about we make a deal. No more riddles. Straight talking. You don't like what I say, I'll head right back to New York, no hard feelings. Deal?"

She nodded slowly. "Deal."

"Right," he said. "OK. You see, I don't want to go back to the States because I love working with you."

"You love working with me."

"Right, yeah. And I think you enjoy working with me, too. Deep down. Very deep." He waited now. Her turn.

"I have enjoyed elements of our work together, it's true."

"So why d'you wanna quit?"

"Why do you want me to stay?"

"I just told you! We make a good team!

"We're going round in circles here, Dempsey, and I'm tired of it. You said straight talking but then you just go on about work. Work is not the problem here. It's – other things." She stood abruptly and he rose to stand by her. He could sense her frustration but wasn't sure he had the words to respond. Wasn't sure it was words she wanted in any case.

Harry could feel the heat from his body as he stood close. After so much uncertainty she knew now what she wanted from him but she feared making the first move. She said, "Imagine a man who flirts with a woman and tells her, all the time, how much he wants her. But then she sees him saying the same thing to dozens of other women. It's not going to make her feel very special, is it?"

Dempsey edged a fraction closer. "Imagine a man who wants a woman so much he tells her every day, but she never responds, never says anything about wanting him the same way. He's not going to feel so confident now, is he?"

"Maybe she's frightened that he's just joking."

"Maybe. Or maybe he's worried that she's gonna turn him down."

She swayed a little towards him, her eyes level with the skin at his neck. Now or never, and she really didn't want it to be never. "I don't think she's going to turn him down."

"You don't?"

"Not if she thinks he's serious."

"Oh, he's serious."

"Well then."

Harry felt a gentle finger beneath her chin, lifting her face and drawing her gaze to his. His eyes were blazing. "Harry," he said, his voice deep, "you sure?"

She swallowed. "Not at all. But I'm sure I'll regret saying no."

"Good enough." He lowered his head, his hand sliding around her jaw to tangle in her hair as his lips gently brushed against hers. The spark was immediate, bursting into flame as the kiss deepened, and she linked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, leaving him in no doubt as to just what she wanted. Judging by the way he was responding to her touch, he wanted the exact same thing.

She still had no idea if he was serious, whether she'd regret it in the morning, but right then she truly didn't care. "Stay," she murmured, leading him towards the stairs, thinking, Stay the night. Thinking, Stay forever.

**The End - hope you enjoyed it.**


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